


A nice warm glow

by vive



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hugs, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vive/pseuds/vive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unofficial Stilinski family motto is “When in doubt, hug that shit out. When not in doubt, hug it out anyway.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A nice warm glow

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler Warning: Set after season 1 finale, so possible spoilers from 1.01 through to 1.12.
> 
> Title from “These Are Your Friends” by Adem.

Stiles makes a beeline for his room as soon as he gets home, bypassing the kitchen and its siren call of snacks. The end of this week could not have arrived soon enough, even though the beginning of the weekend just means more non-school related things need to be done (check in on Jackson, bane of Stiles' existence though he is; check in on Scott, even if he appears to be returning from his daily visits to Allison's in one piece; check in on his dad, to both make sure that he's okay and see how much he knows and Stiles will never stop feeling like a complete heel, will he; check in on Derek, because a werewolf gaining more… whatever it was they gained had meant bad news the last time 'round; and Lydia. God, Lydia.)

He dumps his backpack on his bedroom floor, kicks off his shoes, and flops face-down on his bed. There is no way he's going to give in to the urge to just burrow into his blankets and never come back out, he can't (he promised himself he wouldn't anymore), but he is definitely going to take a nap. A power nap even.

Stiles rolls over and scrubs a hand over his face. Crap, he's so tired he can't even think of a way to describe how tired he is (that's a lie, in fact he can: he could cry, he could sleep forever, he could punch a werewolf in the face and not care about getting killed in the face in return.) He huffs out a laugh and closes his eyes, wondering how this is his life, that the last description is actually _valid_.

"Should I come back later?"

Oh my god speak of the devil _what the hell Derek,_ is what Stiles wants to say, but all that comes out is "Guh!" as he flails himself upright, heart hammering like it's trying to explode from his chest.

"You-! Why-?!" Stiles tries again. "Wuh-!" Great. He gives up on verbalization and just gestures vaguely in the direction of a window.

Derek just raises his eyebrows a little, shrugs, and crosses from the bedroom door to said window. And shuts the blinds. Which apparently had been open. "It's easier to fall asleep when it's darker."

"I. Thanks?"

"You're welcome."

Stiles swallows. Last time he saw Derek, the guy was rocking a serious case of red-eye and some kind of weird vocal effects, not to mention the blood. On his claws. _From slitting his uncle's throat._

There is a very high probability that Stiles is in trouble.

"Not that it's not great to see you doing okay and all, but what're you doing here? I mean, you got what you wanted, you found the killing spree Alpha and killed him. Shouldn't you be having, I don't know, some kind of 'Yay I'm the Alpha now' celebration party? Are you looking for people to have a werewolf party with? In which case, I'm not a werewolf, so I don't know that I should be invited, but it's really nice of you to consider-"

"Shut up."

Derek looks kinda… shifty. (Which is funny, 'cause he's a shape shifter, haha, funny.) He's looking at the blinds like they're super interesting, his hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw working like he wants to say something.

He doesn't look particularly homicidal. That's the most important thing.

"What's up dude?"

Derek looks over at him. "I'm going back to New York for a couple of days. There's going to be a," and he just - stops. Exhales. His eyes flick away and back again. "Laura's friends want to hold a memorial service."

"…Okay, didn't see that one coming." Derek’s brow furrows, but Stiles is too busy trying not to feel guilty about how excited he was over searching for half of Derek's sister's dead body to worry about it.

Wait. Did her friends just find out about this _now_? So. So for months, aside from the Beacon Hills authorities and Scott and Stiles and Peter-the-serial-killer and maybe the werewolf-killing Argents, Derek had been the only person who knew that his sister was dead?

Scratch that, Derek was the only person who knew his sister had been _murdered_?

This, on top of the fact that Derek's whole family was dead?

Dude. That _sucks_.

Stiles takes a deep breath and makes up his mind. Derek must see it on his face, because he kinda freezes like he thinks Stiles is about to do something crazy and attack him (which - not entirely untrue), but Stiles ignores it and just swings out of bed and hugs the ever-loving shit out of Derek Hale, because Derek needs a hug like Batman needs a Robin.

For a moment it's awkward. Then Derek coughs, shifts his arms, and hugs back, his leather jacket creaking like rusted metal.

Stiles mentally marks off checking up on Derek from his list and just keeps on hugging him.


End file.
